Cracks in the Yellow Brick Road
by sharp2799
Summary: Tag to “Seth.” Sam wonders what to do. Can Jack help? Jack/Sam


_Hail, Dorothy._

Sam Carter slammed the empty coffee cup on the kitchen counter.

_Hail, Dorothy._

The colonel's words reverberated in her head. They never left, repeating over and over while she debriefed, left with her father and Selmac and visited Mark and his family. They echoed while she hugged and laughed, ate and sneaked extra cake to her nephew hidden under the kitchen table long past his bedtime. They impressed in her mind as she said goodbye to her brother and then later, when she waved as her father and Selmac walked through the Stargate once more.

And now she stood in her kitchen with absolutely no idea what to do. Or who she was.

x - x - x

"She went home?" Jack O'Neill stared at Daniel and Teal'c. "She didn't sneak into her lab and start tinkering with her latest doodads?"

Silently, Daniel shook his head. The three men exchanged a long look.

Teal'c spoke. "What will you do now, O'Neill?"

Jack's mouth set in a thin line. "I'll take care of it."

x - x - x

Who was she? Who _was_ she? She trained as a soldier. She was prepared to kill, to defeat the enemy, but with her hands, her guns, her explosives. Powering an alien device with her mind because she had the memories of a fucking Goa'uld—a Tok'ra—wasn't in the job description. And what did that make her? She saw things the others couldn't imagine, courtesy of Jolinar. Gee, thanks.

_She saved your life_, her unhelpful inner imp reminded her.

_I wouldn't have needed saving if she hadn't decided to become a passenger in my body_, she retorted to the imp, slamming it into yet another compartment of memories to be locked up.

Her imp refused to go. _The Tok'ra saved your father. You never would have found out about them if it hadn't been for Jolinar, and he would have died._

Well. True.

Sam's innate sense of fairness acknowledged the point. But it still didn't answer the one overriding fear. Who was she? What kind of monster was she turning into? She had seen the sidelong looks and subtle sidling away of people after Jolinar. But Janet, bless her, stayed her friend throughout. And Teal'c and Daniel stayed by her side as well. And Jack….

"Stop," she muttered. "It's Colonel O'Neill. Not Jack. Get over it already."

_Hail, Dorothy._

She clenched. Should she leave the SGC? Could she? Would they even let her? Or would she have to run to another planet? Where could she go, on earth or any planet, to escape her self? If she were alone, at least no one would treat her as outcast. She shuddered angrily, brushing away the tears that slid down her cheeks.

_Hail, Dorothy._

How could he say that to her? Pain and hurt flared and she bowed her head over the kitchen counter and sobbed.

x - x - x

Jack stood awkwardly on Sam's doorstep. He had known the minute the words had left his mouth that it was going to be a problem. Not a mistake. Acknowledging the darkness that had suddenly and violently erupted from his captain—well. He was sorry to see Sam lose her innocence but it was necessary. Maybe it wasn't her first kill, but it was certainly her first kill in this alien war with a darkness that wasn't completely hers. _Jolinar._ He said the name silently as a curse. No one, _no one_ had the right to fuck with his team. His people. And especially not _Sam_.

He scrubbed at his face. Which was worse? To have the darkness inside you because of things you did, had been ordered to do? Or feel them, see them, as imposed memories? He had thought that having Jolinar's memories might not be as bad because, after all, Sam Carter would know they weren't hers and that gave her an out. But to now use that darkness and know you were capable?

Score one for the fucking Tok'ra.

He rang her doorbell. There was no answer and he rang again, scanning the area for neighbors. The last thing he needed was to call attention to himself. Sighing, he used the key dangling on his keyring and let himself in. Walking into the foyer he called out, "Sam?"

_Sam._ That was his decision on the drive over. This was something he was going to help her with and if he needed to share his own darkness, there would be no ranks. It made no difference if you were a general or a private if you were both in Hell.

"Sir?"

Sam's startled voice brought him back to the present. She stood in the doorway of her kitchen dressed in sweatpants and tee shirt. Her feet were bare.

"What are you doing here, sir?"

"We need to talk." His eyes were calm, watchful, noting the red eyes and nose, the self-loathing reflecting back to him. And a little anger in his direction too—good.

"With all due respect, sir—"

He lifted a finger and she fell silent. "First off, no ranks. You're Sam, I'm Jack. And we need to talk. Of course you're scheduled to talk with Mackenzie next week and that's fine. But first you and I need to talk."

"Want me on another team, sir? Actually, I was thinking of leaving, if that's possible." She padded into the living room, leaving him at first speechless, then angry.

He wasn't even aware he moved, one minute he was in the foyer, the next minute he stood in front of her, invading her personal space, dark eyes narrowed. "First off, get one thing straight. No way in hell are you leaving or changing teams." He took a deep breath, tamping down the panic her words had caused. "Now that we've settled that—"

"Settled that? Or what, _Jack_?" She spat. "Would I get sent to some cage so that no one would have to worry? Or would I be killed?"

"What? No! Sam, are you nuts? What brought this on?" But he knew. Hadn't he been a problem himself? And what had the government's solution been? Send him off on a suicide run. Yep, this sounded familiar. Jack sighed and held up his hand to stop her next words. "I get it, Sam. I do. Been there, done that, bought the fucking zat gun." He met her eyes. "I've done things that made me wonder how I could still call myself human." He could see the wheels turning in her head and gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "We do what we do because it's necessary."

"Hail, Dorothy?" She hissed venomously.

"The wicked witch is dead," he intoned solemnly. He brushed a stray hair from her face and she looked at him blankly. "We do what we do because it's necessary. And…it was a clean kill, Carter. Probably more than he deserved."

Her shoulders sagged. "Yes, sir."

He flinched at his mistake, bringing ranks back. "No, Sam, I'm sorry. Please…."

"Please what, Jack?" Her hand reached up to touch his cheek almost involuntarily.

They saw what they had always seen and buried under rules and regulations.

Jack shook his head. "You've got a great career ahead of you."

"Careers are cold in bed." Sam couldn't believe the words that fell from her lips. But what else was left if not honesty when she had already been thinking of running and death?

Jack sighed and began the road back to colonel and captain. He smiled ruefully and stepped back a pace. "I was hoping to keep you innocent a while longer. You're one of my kids…."

She stepped into his space, a little anger sparking her movements. There was no way she was going to let him back away now. "I'm not one of your kids, Jack. I'm an officer in the Air Force, a brilliant theoretical astrophysicist, a fucking former Tok'ra who can kill Gou'alds with a hand device—" Her voice cracked and she raised her chin, meeting his eyes. "But I'm not one of your kids."

He nodded slowly. "No, you're not. But it's best that we pretend you are. Sam, I came over here because I wanted you to know that I know what it's like to kill in ways—"

She stepped in close. "I don't want to hear it. Because I don't believe you! That's not why you came here."

"Sam…."

"I meant what I said. Careers are cold in bed."

"Sam." His voice was gentle and laced with regret. "This isn't—"

"Maybe it isn't, Jack. But it's what we've got." She held his head between two strong hands and pressed her mouth to his, running her tongue over the seam of his lips until he opened, almost without volition, and let her in. She thrust inside, drinking in the taste and smell and touch that was Jack O'Neill. But not for long. He soon took control, pulling her hips to press against his body, sliding his hot, wet tongue into her mouth, exploring and tasting before finally fucking her mouth strong and hard.

She gasped and trembled against his body as he stood firm and took and took and took. His hand slid between them and he stroked her inner thigh through her sweatpants with calloused fingers. She moaned and then froze, deer in the headlights, as he disentangled himself from her and stood back. His eyes, blacker than night, stared her down.

"There's no going back if we do this, Sam. You're in a dark place right now and I've been there a time or two myself. But I can't be just a fuck to make you feel better."

"You ass." The words were low and angry as she stared back. "Is that what you think? That I'd just use you to get off? Are you using me? Is this your pity fuck to get me back on the front lines? 'Whatever it takes?'" She mimicked quotes in mid air.

Amazingly, he smiled. "We're really fucked up, aren't we?"

"You're just now noticing?"

"Yeah." He walked past her, heading for the bedroom, then stopped and turned to look at her. "You coming?" He gave her that grin, the one she secretly lived for, the one he liked to flash at her now and again when no one would notice. He held out his hand.

She walked up to him and took it, smiling hesitantly and they entered the bedroom and stood by the bed.

"This isn't a pity fuck, Sam," he said gently. "But things—"

She placed a hand over his mouth. "It's not a pity fuck, Jack." Blue eyes met brown.

Then she laughed, feeling his tongue licking her palm. "I can think of other places to put that, mister."

"Yeah? So can I."

She grinned and pulled off her tee shirt, and they kissed, tongues leisurely dancing to a timeless rhythm. Then they parted, and Sam's brow furrowed as she looked down and realized she was no longer wearing her bra. She met his smirk with honest perplexity, then grinned. "You ass."

He smirked again, holding her hips, fingers stroking.

Then their smiles faded as they met each other's gaze.

_I know your darkness now. _Sam touched his face, the words unsaid, but Jack nodded as if he heard them anyway. He gently pushed her onto the bed and stripped off her sweatpants and panties in one fluid movement. He stopped and stared. Sam Carter—his Sam—lay sprawled on the bed, naked, open—Jesus, so _wet_—for _him_.

"Do I have to get up and help you?" Her soft voice shook Jack out of his reverie.

"Next time," he said, as he kicked off his shoes and efficiently stripped. It never occurred to him to hide how much he wanted her as he stood there and let her look her fill. Her eyes darkened and she got on her knees and took the tip of his cock between her lips. He groaned and she ran her tongue along the underside and then sucked while fondling his balls with her hand. The very idea that she had _Jack_ in her mouth made her even wetter. She had wanted him for so long and buried it under duty and the knowledge that he saw a dark chasm between them that nothing could breach. _Hail, Jolinar_, whispered her inner imp mischievously.

Jack pushed her off him, breathing heavily. "Not this time."

Sam nodded. "I can wait for other times."

There was that pause again, eye contact, promises made and agreed to.

Jack moved, crawling onto the bed and pulling her up alongside. His fingers gently pinched and rolled her nipples before leaning over and sucking on first one, then the other. Sam moaned, arching slightly, and her hand drifted down to press between her legs. Jack swatted it away. "Not yet."

"Jaaack." It was a whine that made him grin and he kissed and licked his way down her body until he buried his nose in the crinkly-soft hair between her thighs and feasted.

She spasmed as he used fingers and tongue and he waited patiently through a haze of painful arousal and lust. When she finally nodded, a soft smile on her face, he positioned himself over her and thrust hard and smooth, pumping in and out of her in fierce concentration. He thrust himself into her one final time, feeling his orgasm roll up his body in a tidal wave that shorted out his brain, feeling her hips bucking under his in staccato counterpoint. Breathing heavily, he tried to move but she held him tightly. "Sam, you need to breathe."

"I need you more."

He froze, then lifted his head from her shoulder to stare into her eyes. "I guess that makes us even."

She smiled and relaxed her arms to allow him to roll so that he lay underneath. He kissed the top of her head as she snuggled deeper.

_Hail, Dorothy._


End file.
